


Stormy Weather

by fivehorizons



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9773528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivehorizons/pseuds/fivehorizons
Summary: He very nearly plummeted to the ground, vision hazy from the blood-loss and thundering rain, but at the last second, a large hand came around his arm and wrenched him to a wobbly stand.A deep voice cut off by rough edges rasped, “Watch where you’re going, kid.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> JayTim Week VDE: first kiss

Tim didn’t know what was stickier: the blood drenching the curve of his hip or the summer storm. Both were uncomfortably warm against his skin, both not exactly welcomed, both messing up his suit. Overall, it was a frustrating experience, but while Tim had no power over Gotham’s forsaken weather patterns, he could at least hunt down some medical treatment for the wound wrapping from hip bone to sternum.

Which brought him to the roof of one of Jason’s many safehouses, stumbling over his feet as he made it over the ledge. He very nearly plummeted to the rooftop, vision hazy from the blood-loss and thundering rain, but at the last second, a large hand came around his arm and wrenched him to a wobbly stand.

A deep voice cut off by rough edges rasped, “Watch where you’re going, kid.”

“Jason?” Tim asked, glimpsing through the dark curtain of his drenched hair to find the older man holding him upright. His sea glass eyes seemed especially bright and piercing tonight.

“Don’t sound surprised,” Jason muttered. “You came here knowing it was one of my safehouses, so…” He stopped as his eyes narrowed.

Instead of dropping his grip on Tim, he used it to pull the smaller man closer. The eyes that fascinated and horrified Tim so much roved over his body. If he had more blood, the blush on his face would be appalling.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, stare settling on Tim’s face.

“Injured,” Tim said. His mouth was starting to feel weird, the taste on his tongue something metallic and sharp.

“Let me see.”

“Okay.” Tim shook his arm to tell Jason to let go off him. He might’ve imagined it, but he was sure the other man hesitated before letting his fingers loosen.

It took all of Tim’s strength to stay balanced without Jason there to support him. Even harder was peeling up his skintight shirt, revealing the puckered lips of a blade wound curving around his torso.

He hissed the same time Jason did.

“Shit,” Jason said, just as Tim wobbled, pain lancing across his whole body. He felt that if he stretched his torso any further, his body would be severed in half.

“Whoa, Tim.” And there were Jason’s warm hands around his body, his fingers feather-light against his skin.

“Ah,” he whimpered, trying and failing to pull from this grip. “Don’t touch me.”

Jason’s hands softened but didn’t disappear. “Did that hurt?”

“No. It’s just…” The blood-loss was doing something to Tim. The warm, uncomfortable feeling in his mouth was allowing whatever he thought, no matter how dark of a secret it was, to slip past his lips. “ _Your touch_ ,” he said, like that explained everything in the world.

Jason furrowed his brow, and if Tim had any strength left, he’d run his finger over the ident, hoping he could somehow smooth it out. If he had any strength left, he’d catapult himself off the rooftop of the safehouse, knowing he would regret his actions as soon as he was patched up.

“What about my touch?” Jason asked gruffly.

When Tim didn’t answer right away, Jason brought up his other hand and curled his fingers around Tim’s neck, resting his palm against his collar. Tim’s knees buckled as Jason rubbed his thumb across the column of his throat.

“What about my touch?” Jason repeated, not unkindly, but definitely demanding.

“It’s…” Jason brushed his thumb over Tim’s shallow breath, bubbling out of his mouth as a tight word. “Nice.”

Jason looked even more puzzled—and intrigued. “Nice?”

How often had Tim fantasized about Jason’s hands: large, callused, warm. Perfect. How often had he wanted them wandering over his body, searching, feeling, wanting as much as Tim wanted him. 

“Your hands…they feel good,” he struggled to say.

Jason opened his mouth, as if to speak, but instead he went quiet. Just looked at Tim.

God, Tim was such an idiot. He was a bleeding-out idiot, so hopefully Jason would believe him when he said this was all just—

Jason’s hands moved to Tim’s face, cupping the sharp cheekbones and tracing the shape of his jaw.

Tim gave a surprised gasp, but Jason didn’t stop. He brushed his fingers, rough in a comforting way, over the angles of his face. They touched his brow, his nose, his cheeks, everywhere. He applied gentle pressure on the bags that bruised the skin under his eyes. It was all like he was exploring Tim, trying to discover every inch of his face.

Tim stopped breathing when Jason ran his finger over Tim’s lips, a cut knifing down the middle of it from his fight earlier.

The touch was gone an instant later, like it’d never happened. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe this was all just some fantasy, and any second, Tim would wake up, disappointed and hungry for something he’d never have.

Then Jason replaced his hands with his mouth, and his lips pressed against Tim’s slightly parted ones.

This time, Jason’s touch consumed him.

Tim, self-controlled, tightly wound Tim, allowed himself a sigh, tilting his head back so he could kiss Jason back in the way he’d been dreaming of doing for years. And though some aspects of the kiss were rough—Jason’s slight stubble, the chapped edges of his lips, the throb of Tim’s split lip—it wasn’t violent. It was tender, soft, and far better than anything Tim’s mind could imagine.

Still, it was so much more than Jason’s lips locked against his. There were Jason’s hands resting on the small of Tim’s back, his intoxicating smell of Kevlar and smoke, the heat of his chest flushed against Tim. It was an entire atmosphere of Jason that surrounded Tim, and he breathed him in.

Far too soon, Jason leaned back to break off the kiss, running his teeth over his pinked lips. His hands remained on Tim’s back, but it was only after the kiss was over did Tim realize he was pretty much supporting the smaller men.

“Come on,” Jason said, voice raspier than before, “let’s get you patched up.”

Tim hated that he pouted. Hated that Jason was right, because every time he blinked he saw black spots eating into his vision. Most of all, he hated the thought that their first kiss had been their last. “But—”

Jason silenced him by planting another kiss on his lips, brief but as overwhelming as before. When he pulled back and looked down at Tim, he was grinning. “We can finish this later.”

But he was wrong. They weren’t finishing anything, because this—this was a beginning.


End file.
